


All This And Heaven Too

by johnwatso



Series: Ceremonials [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Finally, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03 Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnwatso/pseuds/johnwatso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had been such a long time that he just knew he had to get it over with. He couldn’t bear to waste one more second of his life not having told John Watson that he loved him, and how he wanted to love him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This And Heaven Too

**Author's Note:**

> And the heart is hard to translate  
> It has a language of its own  
> It talks in tongues and quiet sighs,  
> And prayers and proclamations  
> In the grand days of great men and the smallest of gestures  
> And short shallow gasps
> 
> Florence + the Machine, ["All This And Heaven Too"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnvmsQm9UTI)

It didn’t happen suddenly - like anything else with the two of them. Sherlock had thought that once the _I love you_ s were out of the way - or sort of out of the way in any case; neither of them had actually come right out and said ‘I love you’ yet - that they would start up some sort of romantic relationship. More than what they currently had, which involved a lot of cuddling and touching, which wasn’t entirely platonic, but Sherlock was sure that romances involved a lot more. Kissing, for one. Sherlock had thought about kissing John Watson for a very, very long time and, now that it was in his sights, he wasn’t sure that John wanted the same. Perhaps John was content to stay in a strange relationship limbo, where his sexuality was never threatened, but he could still experience the closeness of a significant other.

Whatever was going on, Sherlock was utterly confused by it, and he hated nothing more than not being able to understand something. Which was why, over the previous couple of days, he was growing more and more restless and agitated. If John noticed, he didn’t say anything. He still ruffled Sherlock’s hair and held him close against his body every night. 

In a fit of pique, Sherlock flopped down onto their sofa one afternoon, still in his pyjamas, still perplexed. When John offered him coffee, he ignored him, turning towards the back of the sofa. After some time, he felt John’s hand on his back, urging him to shift up. Sherlock curled his legs even more, letting John squeeze onto the rest of the seating. 

“Bored?” John asked, peering over to look Sherlock in the face. 

Sherlock ignored him.

Sighing, John leaned back into the sofa, making himself comfortable. Eventually, “What is it?” he asked in the same worn-out tone he adopted when dealing with phone calls from his bank.

“S’nothing.”

“Sherlock,” the same fatigued inflection, with an added undercurrent of warning - _I don’t have time for this._

“I just. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of it,” Sherlock’s voice was growing more and more agitated and he began tugging at his curls.

John grabbed his wrist, not allowing him to pull any more. “Right. Let’s figure it out then. What don’t you understand?”

“You. _Us_ ,” at this, he gestured between the two of them emphatically, “I thought. Well, I was under the impression, however misguided it may be, that when two people profess their love to each other, that some sort of development would occur. Something more. Than _this_ ,” more gesturing.

“Hmm,” John’s eyebrows wrinkled.

“I realise you’re ‘not gay’, but I thought… I’m almost never wrong…”

“Firstly, you’ve been wrong before, you prat…”

Sherlock froze, so John continued quickly:

“Secondly, I thought you were married to your work?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that.

“John,” he began bashfully, his eyes steadfastly on the sofa’s back, “I’ve never… I’ve never told anyone that. That I love them. Forgive me if I was mistaken, but I thought -“

“No,” John interrupted firmly, “Not mistaken. Sherlock. I think I’m the one who has been mistaken. This is new territory for us, as you know. I’ve had women ‘round before… You’ve just never… never expressed a desire for more, I s’pose. Wasn’t up to me to change your mind about that.”

Sherlock sat up, narrowing his eyes at John’s. “You thought I was asexual?”

John shrugged.

“I assure you that, while my experience isn’t far-reaching… I’m… I’m not.”

“Have you ever… you know.”

“What? Been with someone? Aside from my fair share of misguided experimentation in uni… Not really.”

“The Woman?” John was almost accusing.

“…was a challenge. Interesting, certainly. But… I never really thought about her that way. I told you. I’ve never really… There wasn’t anybody who was worth the trouble. Before,” Sherlock could feel his face burning. The words felt like poison leaving his mouth; he was so used to suppressing his affection.

John stared at Sherlock, mouth slightly agape. Sherlock hated hated _hated_ having conversations such as this, but he thought it best to forge on and have it out of the way.

“John,” he began, opening and closing his mouth, as many false starts as butterflies in his stomach, “John, I… Well. This is stupid. It’s just that, as I said, I’ve never - I don’t know. Oh, hell! John, I love you.”

Now it was John’s turn to freeze up, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish. Sherlock looked him squarely in the face, forcing courage where he didn’t really feel any. It had been such a long time that he just knew he had to get it over with. He couldn’t bear to waste one more second of his life not having told John Watson that he loved him, and _how_ he wanted to love him.

“Alright. Yes. I. I love you, too.”

“ _Soooo_ ,” Sherlock urged, “What shall we do about it?”

“That sort of depends.”

“On?”

“What do you want? From this? Us?”

Sherlock took a moment to think it through, even though he already had the answer. He exhaled, “ _Everything._ ”

John nodded once. He shuffled closer to Sherlock, taking his jaw in his hands. His eyes looked so uncomprehendingly adoring that Sherlock could feel his heart clench at the sight. It looked as though John was going through the same, because his eyes were suspiciously sparkling with tears he was obviously willing away.

He stroked his thumbs across Sherlock’s cheekbones once, twice, and then leaned in.

The kiss itself was as would be expected. Sherlock had kissed a few people in his life - mostly for a case or experiment - and he would have ranked John near the top, certainly, but it seemed to Sherlock that technique wasn’t the topic of importance. The most important thing was, for once in Sherlock’s life, simply how he _felt_. Not what his brain told him to feel or not feel. Not what he thought he deserved to feel or not feel. Just how he felt. And what he felt was mesmerising.

Sherlock thought that he would gladly wait another half a decade to kiss John Watson if this was his reward.

They broke away, gasping for breath, leaning their foreheads against each other. And, as was typical - _we can't giggle, it's a crime scene_ \- they began to chuckle, silently at first, but soon they were full-on laughing. Soon the laughing morphed into more kissing and Sherlock felt deliriously happy, as though he had just taken a speedball and solved a locked-door murder all in one moment. _Perfect_.

———

It was in the little things. The way Sherlock loved John.

While John had never expected Sherlock to be comfortable with affection (and certainly not physical intimacy), he knew that he did enjoy cuddling - at least before bed. What he didn’t know - couldn’t know, really - was that Sherlock was one of the most affectionate people he had ever dated. It was one of the more pleasing surprises of his life.

What John also didn’t anticipate was their late-night conversations. Every night, before falling asleep, Sherlock would curl up on his side, facing John, and just chat. He would talk about his experiments, a case, life before meeting John, anything, really. It created such an unparalleled bubble of intimacy, and John loved Sherlock more than ever in those moments. It was the Sherlock that the rest of the world didn’t know, the one who would hook his feet through John’s legs and pull John closer to him from his waist when he was tired of talking. The Sherlock who smiled at John every morning upon waking, as though John was a miracle. The Sherlock who made John feel like the most treasured, appreciated man on earth when Sherlock made him a cup of coffee and let their hands brush against each other before letting the cup go.

As it turned out, Sherlock had something of an… insatiable sexual appetite, too. John felt as though he was a drug that Sherlock craved, needed, and couldn’t get enough of. It would have worried John, had they not discussed it one night while lying in bed, tangled together.

“I hope this lasts,” John said, looking at Sherlock, feeling his breath on his face and wishing beyond anything that the feelings they shared never went anywhere.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow in response.

“Well, I hope you don’t get bored of me. You know, like an old experiment or a solved case. I hope - I hope that when you say ‘forever’, it means the same thing that I do, that’s all…”

“John,” Sherlock responded, cupping his face with one hand, running his fingers over his lower lip, “John, when I say ‘forever’, I mean it. How could I ever become bored? The more I have of you, the more I feel I _need_. It’s unbearable and quite, quite spectacular all at once.”

“Yeah, I get that. But. But -“

“No buts. No take-backs,” Sherlock interrupted, looking John in his eyes as he brought his hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.

“Hmmm,” John hummed, contented beyond all calculation, “Alright. I love you, Mr ‘Married To My Work’.”

Sherlock smiled, lacing their fingers together. “Goodnight Mr ‘Not Gay’. I love you.”

John could feel his smile deepen as he drifted off to sleep. Before unconsciousness overtook him, he heard Sherlock whisper, “I love you,” again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr.](http://johnwatso.tumblr.com/)


End file.
